CHAPTER VI.

AND THEN TO DOUBT.

“I believe,” said Aunt Jane, “that one of the numerous causes of doubt

in the truth of Revelation is that we have difficulty in realising the

idea of a continuity of perfect happiness. The capacity for joy in some

natures is so infinite, yet it is so seldom realised, that we are almost

unable to contemplate its fulfilment. Moderate or equally-toned minds

can more easily imagine the continuity of the degree of happiness they

often, perhaps generally, experience, and, therefore, they seem to be

better Christians.”

“Very likely,” said I, “and the music I often hear in my ears is more

beautiful than any I ever heard in reality; and the happiness I

sometimes causelessly feel is so far beyond my usually depressed

sensations, that I have the greatest difficulty in believing that I can

ever attain a permanence of such heavenly joy--still less do I feel

worthy ever to enjoy it.”

“The strongest natural or internal evidence of the existence and

superintendence of a loving God,” said Aunt Jane--“the Being whom

Scriptures describe as knowing the very number of the hairs of our

head--is the feeling of repose and confidence we sometimes have of

being thus cared for at those moments when the world and our best

friends seem to desert us, or when we lose them by death or separation.

Thank God, I have often been blessed with this apparently miraculous

peace and confidence in the existence and goodness of my Maker.

Gratitude is the most natural source of love. We cannot love God with

all our hearts, as we are commanded to do, unless we feel grateful to

Him, and we cannot feel grateful if we allow ourselves to imagine that

we deserved more happiness or pleasure than we got. It is imperative to

be humble and cheerful, if we wish to love God, or even to believe in

Him. No person who indulges in pride and discontent _can_ do so.

Nothing,” continued Aunt Jane, after a pause, “preserves us so well

from the self-pity, which is often our most depressing misery, as a

thorough consciousness of our own unworthiness. It is only when we

indulge in a feeling of self-righteousness, such as, ‘Lord, I thank Thee

that I am not such as these,’ &c. It is then we most feel the injuries

which circumstances, or ill-natured or stupid people, have made us

suffer. There is a degree of happiness in thorough humility--_i.e._,

consciousness of sin and error--which I believe many people are not

cognizant of; it mitigates the agony of those bitter tears which we

allow ourselves to shed when we are ill-treated, and believe we have not

deserved the apparent unkindness or ingratitude of friends, or the

slights and neglects of those we love. Remorse is a sad suffering, but

an absence of it, which leads to self-elation under injustice, is sadder

still.”

“Surely,” I said, “unbelief cannot proceed from pride in me? Surely it

is that I cannot feel worthy of such great good--such a blessing as

eternal spiritual happiness! Oh! how have I prayed to some unseen Power

that I might be enabled to see daylight and belief in Revelation.

Unceasingly, day and night, and even in my sleep, I sometimes awake

suddenly, clasping my hands, and crying in agony for help in my

unbelief. It is impossible that pride can prevent my belief,

pride--which is certainly often the cause of doubt and rejection of

Scripture. Yes, I am full of humility; but that is because I am really

bad--thoroughly so. When I look back at all the wrong things I have

done, I am quite horrified! Now, I love Norah,” I continued, “chiefly

because she is so humble, and because humility is beautiful. It commands

admiration. It must be pleasant to see and hear persons who love, or

revere, or look up to something ‘better than themselves,’ rather than to

see persons who consider themselves the best that can exist. Therefore

religious, and even superstitious people are more to be admired than

infidel independent ones. I am afraid the excessive tolerance of my

father, and the rather silly superstition of my mother, made me too

indifferent, in years gone by, to all religion. I shrank from the

subject.”

“Those,” replied Aunt Jane, “who are, like Norah, endowed with a natural

spirit of harmony, can understand the Christian religion and the

Scriptures, even without the aid of either tradition or the teachings of

a visible church. The most harmonious Pagan minds whose works have come

down to us have been actuated by this truly harmonious spirit. Plato had

it in such a high degree that he seemed to have a foretaste of the real

doctrines of Scripture, and of the consequent necessity for the

Atonement. To those who have not this spirit of harmony the Scripture

becomes as discordant and unintelligible as the musical scales do to

those bad players who have no musical ear, and consequently make

discords: and jumbling, horrible sounds are all they can draw forth.

Probably my spirit of harmony led me to imagine that some can attain

goodness even without the teaching of the visible Church.”

“Ah! I see what you mean,” I replied. “In meditating on harmony, one

certainly finds help to belief.”

“Another ray of hope you will find,” she continued, “by reasoning from

the analogy of society. I mean that, when we are in the company of

strangers, it is certainly better taste to judge of or speak to them

with the kind courtesy which ‘hopeth all things,’ which expects to find

some good in them rather than evil. Should some of them even have bad

countenances, it is better--better even for those who are not thinking

or acting on Christian precepts. It shows better feeling to be kind, and

wish, at all events, to discover some good in them. I suppose confirmed

infidels or unbelievers would agree with me on this point, because they

must probably wish for good instead of evil in their fellow-creatures.

Well, on reasoning from analogy, is it not better to think that some

good design for our future happiness causes the apparent state of

present misery which the majority of mankind suffer--to think that there

is a Being who wishes us well? Is this not more likely than their idea

that chance, or what they call the Laws of Nature, caused this present

suffering in human nature; which of course they must think perfectly

useless, unless it tends to some future good to each suffering

individual. Does not analogy as well as common sense point towards a

superintending Creator, who allows us to suffer and choose our own

future lot of endless happiness or misery? We _must_ suppose either the

one or the other, that the suffering of this world was given to purify

us, and increase our eternal happiness; _or_ that everything has created

itself, for the sole purpose of tending to decay, and developing a set

of beings which must necessarily suffer in proportion to the increased

power and perfection of their nature; for no one can deny that the more

intellectual and perfect human nature becomes, the more it _must_ crave

for a continuance of happiness, the more its greatest minds must wish

for the intellectual enjoyments, unshackled by the necessary sufferings

of its body. No one can say that the human body is less liable to

suffering than it was in the early periods of the world; on the

contrary, it always seems much more liable to suffering in proportion

to its greater intellectual development, then as now.”

The lost bride; vol. 3 · 第 6 / 30 章